


You're Better Sober

by ActuallyMe



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: An idea I got from a friend's drunken antics, F/F, Human AU, Pining, alcohol tw, drunk!13, just a little one shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24879442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyMe/pseuds/ActuallyMe
Summary: Yaz takes Jamie home.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor/Yasmin Khan
Comments: 12
Kudos: 49





	You're Better Sober

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mag_lex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mag_lex/gifts).



> For Mag_Lex, who blesses us all with beautiful, wonderful fic.

The music pounds in her ears, and the lights are too bright. She’s still not sure why Ryan dragged them to this club, but he left an hour ago and now it’s just her and Jamie. Or well: her, Jamie, and Jamie’s Fanclub.

There are too many people staring at their table. Someone pushes Yaz out of the way saying, “This is hilarious!” She keeps getting jostled further and further away from her best friend, and her heart-rate spikes. Sometimes Yaz wishes she drank, but not right now. Right now, she’s grateful to be sober.

Jamie is surrounded by a gaggle of girls who squeal and shriek as she draws a very realistic diagram of a vagina on a napkin. About half an hour ago, one of the undergrads from the uni had asked if Jamie was a lesbian. Jamie had affirmed, warily, and the girl had asked where to find the G-spot. Of course, Jamie had gone into the explanation with gusto, and the drinks kept coming.

“But it’s pretty much agreed it’s a part of the clitoral nerve map. Cor, this cocktail doesn’t taste like it’s got anythin’ in it!”

Jamie winks, or tries—saying she blinks with purpose is probably more accurate—and Yaz’s cheeks flare with heat. This was not how she thought this night would go, though if you asked her how it was meant to go, she wouldn’t have a clue. She’s not generally a club person.

The girls all giggle; one of them touches Jamie’s arm. That must be the bartender, because she’s swapping Jamie’s empty glass for another one, grinning. “How’d you learn all this?”

Jamie takes a swig, waggles her eyebrows, and says ‘I’ve got a Ph.D. in pussy.’

Yaz groans. There are cheers all around, and Jamie tries to elaborate, “well—”

“Jamie, please,” Yaz says, not really wanting to get into what they do for a living, and she lights up. 

“Yaz! Forgot you were here. How’d I do that? That’s silly of me,” she says, barrelling over and spilling her drink on the grotty floor before leaning into Yaz. Her breaths land hot and thick on Yaz’s neck. “Your hair smells nice.”

Yaz shivers at the words muttered in her ear and wrinkles her nose at Jamie’s sweet, alcohol tinged breath.

“I didn’t think you drank,” she admits as she tries to maneuver Jamie away from the crowd, back toward the exit. 

There are several moans of displeasure from the girls, but one of them says, “they’ve been making eyes at each other all night. Let them have their fun,” loud enough for Yaz to hear.

Jamie’s fever-bright eyes close and she drops her head backward, exposing her throat. “Not usually, but that drink were nice.” Her head lolls onto Yaz’s shoulder.

“I think we need to get you back to your flat before someone tries to take you home,” Yaz murmurs, gently as she can. “Only you can make diagrams sexy to strangers,” she mutters, mostly to herself.

“I’d let you take me home,” Jamie says. She tangles her hand up with Yaz’s, and she freezes. 

“You’re drunk, and besides, I am taking you home, you lump,” Yaz says, managing to keep her speech clear and precise.

“No. I mean I could show you a good time,” Jamie insists, her gaze heavy on Yaz. Yaz could swear she’s sober, the way she looks at her. But then she sways, almost taking Yaz with her.

Yaz rolls her eyes. “C’mon. You’ll be mortified in the morning. Who knew you were such a sloppy drunk?”

They stumble out of the bar into the cold night air. It should be summer, but the mizzy rain will soak them through with no regard for what the weather should be. Yaz should’ve ordered the Uber in the club.

Regardless, she manages to book the Uber with Jamie clinging to her arm. It’s warm where their skin touches and Yaz could swear there’s a fizzle of electricity. She knows it’s her imagination, but still.

After about five minutes, Jamie starts to get impatient.

“Why’s it so cold?” Jamie whines, breaking the trance Yaz finds herself in and burrowing further into Yaz’s jacket. “You’re warm. S’nice.”

“Because it’s Sheffield, babe. C’mon,” she says, shrugging off her jacket and depositing it over Jamie’s shoulders. 

Yaz shivers as the rain pricks past her long sleeves, and the humid cold permeates through to the bone.

“Smells like you. I love your perfume,” Jamie says, burrowing into the jacket and into Yaz’s side.

Why does she keep saying things like that? Yaz huffs. Thankfully, they’re interrupted by the Uber pulling up to them, so Yaz doesn’t need to answer. She helps Jamie get in before she follows.

“Hey,” the driver says. 

Yaz acknowledges him with a “hiya.” She hopes he’s not the chatty kind.

Jamie settles against her and starts to snore, and Yaz is left with the task of staying awake. Turns out, the driver is just as keen for the silence as Yaz, so she turns her attention to Jamie.

She watches as strands of blonde hair get caught in the current of Jamie’s breaths. The wrinkle between her eyes furrows and she whispers something that sounds suspiciously like Yaz’s name. Yaz tucks the errant strands behind Jamie’s ear and Jamie sighs, leaning into her touch.

“Is it a right here, or? My sat-nav isn’t the best.”

Yaz startles at the sudden voice and places her hand by her side. “No, you keep going up until the roundabout, then it’s the first right. I’ll direct you from there.”

Jamie nuzzles in further against her, and Yaz feels a pang of pity for her. She can’t carry Jamie and so the more comfortable she gets, the worse it’ll be when they have to walk up the stairs to Jamie’s flat.

She jostles her. “Hey, Jamie, we’re here.” Better to start waking her up before the car gets to her flat.

“Don’t wanna,” she moans against Yaz’s neck. Yaz wishes she were doing that on purpose.

“I’m not carryin’ ya, babe.” She extricates her arm from Jamie and says, “Make a right here,” to the driver.

Jamie groans and slumps against Yaz.

“Just the left up here, thanks, and then we’re there,” Yaz says. The car slows to a crawl and finally stops. She opens the door and pulls Jamie out with less grace than she’d pushed her in.

“C’mon Jamie, please just help me?”

She’s going to kill Ryan for insisting they go and disappearing as soon as Jamie got drunk. To be fair to him, though, she thinks he got a call from his Nan. He’d said sorry, too, so. Still, it’s a little annoying.

“I’m tired,” Jamie pouts.

“I know. Gimme your keys and I’ll get us in the warm, yeah?”

Jamie is the best person she’s ever met, so Yaz is willing to put up with this night of indiscretion. Besides, people are allowed to have fun every so often. Even researchers studying human sexuality. God, why’d she have to fall in love with her partner? How dumb. How ridiculous. How cliche. The bisexual researcher falling for her lesbian research partner; who even does that?

They stumble up the stairs; Jamie leans heavily on Yaz the whole way up. By the time they’ve made it to Number 13, Jamie is fading fast.

“Alright, clothes off,” Yaz commands, locking the door behind her before going to the kitchen to get Jamie a tall glass of water.

Jamie stills, then begins giggling, her skin turning red.

“Not like that! Your mind really has been in the gutter all night, huh?” It comes out harsher than she intends. Yaz knows that Jamie doesn’t want her, that this is just the drink talking, that Jamie is too smart for her. But it hurts. It hurts that she’s teasing, that she’s giggling and cute and it will never be for Yaz unless it’s like this.

“Can’t help it. You’re amazin’.” She takes her shirt off and wriggles out of her jeans and Yaz turns around to look at the wall too quickly to feign being casual about it. “You’re allowed to look, y’know.”

Her heart hammers in her chest, but still, she manages, “C’mon. Let’s get you to bed. You’re not makin’ any sense.” She pushes the water into Jamie’s hands.

Jamie takes a long sip, then sways. “But if I go to bed, you’ll leave.” She suddenly looks small and sad, curled in on herself in just her boxers and sports bra, as if the thought of Yaz going home really will break her heart.

“No way am I leaving you alone with how much you’ve had to drink,” she concedes.

Jamie perks up and grabs Yaz’s hand, pulling her to her bedroom. Yaz balks, but only for a second. Jamie’s hands are strong even when she’s drunk, and besides, she’s never been in Jamie’s room before.

“Have you got any PJs I can borrow?” Yaz asks.

Jamie nods solemnly. “Second drawer.”

She takes a look around. Jamie’s room is not messy, but not exactly organised either. Still, she finds the drawer, takes two pairs of pajamas out, and throws one to Jamie.

Jamie wrinkles her nose. “I think I just wanna sleep like this.”

“The alcohol will bring down your temperature and it’s a cold night.” Not to mention she’ll probably be embarrassed in the morning. Really, Yaz is just trying to protect what little dignity Jamie’s got left. “Please put on the pajamas.”

Jamie pouts but obeys.

Before too long, Jamie is in bed, dozing, and Yaz is trying to make a decision. She’s not sure if she should crawl in bed with her best friend and the woman she loves, or if she should just stay on the couch. Before she can decide, Jamie’s hands grasp toward her.

“Keep me warm?” She asks.

“Okay.” Yaz’s voice sounds meek even to her own ears, which is unlike her. She promises herself that if Jamie starts getting flirty, that’s it. She’s sleeping on the couch.

But Jamie doesn’t do anything except hold her, and Yaz sinks into the warmth of her arms.

\--

God, she needs a wee and her tongue feels like sandpaper and her _head_. She wants to die, but she feels warmth by her side and there’s someone in bed with her.

There’s someone in bed with her.

Oh no.

She blinks, wrinkling her nose as the light assaults her eyes. Jasmine and sandalwood perfume. She knows that perfume.

“Yaz?” She croaks. Did she have sex with Yaz last night? She doesn’t feel achy beyond the general malaise of her hangover, but she does remember flirting with someone. Qutie aggressively, if she’s not mistaken.

“Hmm,” she hears, and when the mystery person turns around, it is Yaz.

Jamie doesn’t know whether to panic or not, but Yaz must see it in her eyes because she says “we didn’t do anything. I mean, you were well flirty last night, but I was sober, and we didn’t do anything.”

“Oh.” Jamie blinks. She expects to feel relieved. Instead, she is vaguely disappointed. “Uh, I’ll be right back.”

She swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands, maybe too abruptly, just barely managing to catch herself on the wall.

She uses the loo, drinks water from the bathroom tap, and brushes her teeth all before looking in the mirror. She looks awful. Her hair is all over the place, and those dark circles, Christ, those are bad. And Yaz, she definitely remembers some of the things she said to her. What if she said worse? God, who even tells anyone they can show them a good time? She wants to shrink into the bathroom, hide until Yaz leaves, but… well, she’s got to face her at some point.

“Hi, she says, sitting on the side of the bed. “Sorry about last night.”

Yaz smiles, and it looks sad. “Sure.”

Jamie opens her mouth. She’s not sure what to say and opts for honesty. “Who thought I’d tell you how I feel when drunk?” She gives what she hopes is an encouraging smile.

“You didn’t mean it, Jamie. It’s fine.”

Jamie flinches. Is Yaz letting her down gently?

“Seriously, don’t feel bad,” Yaz says, putting her hand on Jamie’s.

Jamie swallows. Time to be brave. “But what if—what if I did mean it? I mean, I know it’d make things awkward because we work together and we’re friends, and I don’t know, if you don’t feel the same way it’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, but what if I did mean it. What then?”

Yaz’s hand doesn’t leave Jamie’s. She squeezes. “Are you still drunk?”

Jamie sighs. That’s a no, then. “No. I don’t think so. Got a bangin’ headache, but I’m sober.”

Yaz nods, determination setting on her dear face. “Well if you’re sober, and you still feel that way, then… I don’t know Jamie.” She kisses her teeth. “I don’t know, because we’re research partners, and as much as I want you, you’ll see sense soon.”

Jamie furrows her eyebrows. “See sense? About what?”

“You don’t want me.”

Jamie scrunches her face. “I think I just said I do.”

Yaz withdraws her hand finally to tuck a piece of her long black hair behind her ear. “Jamie, you’re the lead researcher in our department and I’m a junior colleague. How do you think it will look? What will people say?”

“Sod what other people say.” Jamie declares. “Do you like me? Yaz shrugs, and Jamie insists. “C’mon, if you don’t like me, I won’t say another word.”

“Of course I like you, Jay. You’re you.” Jamie grins, but Yaz shrugs again. “But I don’t want my career to be plagued by rumours that I only got to where I am because I slept with the lead.”

Jamie deflates. “Okay.”

Yaz nods. “Okay.”

But then they’re staring at each other, and then Yaz is coming so close, and suddenly, Yaz’s mouth is on hers. Jamie is helpless to do anything but follow her lips. She only breaks away when Yaz’s tongue presses between her lips, and vaguely, she is grateful she brushed her teeth.

“I thought you said…”

Yaz nods, her chest heaving, Jamie can’t help but notice. “I did, but then I… I think I changed my mind.”

Jamie shakes her head. “Yaz, you’re giving me mixed signals. I’m confused.”

Yaz closes her eyes. “I think I just realised that I don’t care about what other people think.”

Jamie feels her face stretch with glee. “Ah, okay,” and then they’re kissing again, and it’s the most precious thing in the whole world.

**Author's Note:**

> The PhD in pussy line was inspired by one of my irl best friends and her antics. The rest was just fluff I wanted to write. I guess this is kind of all over the place, but I wrote it and it's alright and yeah. IDK.


End file.
